


Windows

by buggibat



Category: The Underland Chronicles - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen, tuc fic exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:43:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buggibat/pseuds/buggibat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kodeph waited patiently as Gregor looked around with a weary expression. He always did. The boy didn't realize that while to him the artifacts were like windows to a new world, to the old man they were like hollow shells, lost puzzle pieces from a greater whole that had been torn apart forever. But, for the time being, Gregor would let himself pretend with his grandnephew that they were windows. This was a two-sided agreement, after all.</p><p>"So," Gregor almost whispered. "What'll it be tonight?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windows

**Author's Note:**

> for deliver-the-light.
> 
> “Write about Gregor’s life after the Underland. Either in small snippets that go through time or in a chunk further on down the line."

\----

December 16, 2062

11:58 PM

Somewhere beneath New York State

\----

Anticipation kept Kodeph awake. His eyes watched his ankles bounce up and down against the edge of the bed, but he had his ears pricked for a sound that couldn't come too soon. Absently, he fiddled with a zipper on his battered old backpack, which lay in his arms. The thing had seen better days. One of the straps had had to be sewed back on with Spinner silk, and there were several patches. It had a faded graphic of something the boy's grandma called a "kangaroo" on it. The whole thing looked pretty dingy. None of that really mattered to Kodeph, though. What mattered was that this bag, along with its contents, came from a lost place. They came from the Overland.

Growing a little anxious, Kodeph got up. Had the clock stopped? Had he misjudged the hour? He padded lightly over to the window, though it wasn't much use. Over elegant stone structures and twinkling gaslights, he could only just make out the distant clock tower. (He didn't know it, but he was a little near-sighted.) He squinted stubbornly at the faraway building, to no avail. Defeated, he set to pacing the room.

Incidentally, It was then that the faint chiming began. Kodeph stopped and grinned suddenly. He stood in the moment, relishing the dramatic melody. Time always seemed to hold its breath for the stroke of midnight, as if something important were to come of it. Kodeph held his breath, too. He released it slowly as the final note faded away, paused, and then without further ceremony ran into the hall. He stopped in front of one of several doorways, and carefully peeled back it's curtain.

"Uncle," he whispered, loudly.

"Here," said a man who was not properly Kodeph's uncle. "Just a moment." Rustling cloth could be heard, along with a few other indistinguishable sounds. Then Gregor's dark, wrinkled face appeared, illuminated by flickering orange light. He held two oil lamps in his hands, one of which he gave to Kodeph. He couldn't help staring at the old man's arms as he did so, ever fascinated by their gnarled pale stripes.

"To the museum?" Kodeph asked hopefully.

"To the museum," his uncle confirmed emphatically. They both smiled. They had an arrangement. Every time Kodeph and his parents came to visit the city, usually only on special occasions, Granduncle Gregor would tell him Bedtime Stories. -Only "bedtime" was midnight, and "stories" consisted of, well, whatever Gregor wanted to talk about, really. Most of the time they had to do with something from the museum, which made it an apt meeting place. Tonight, Kodeph had a treasure of his own to share. "What've you got there?" Gregor asked.

"You'll see," he replied.

They headed in the direction of the museum, neither of them speaking as they walked. Kodeph was busy musing about how he would present his interesting find. Briefly, he wondered if Gregor was doing much the same. He certainly looked thoughtful, but then again, old people always did.

After rounding many corners, they came to a wide, unlit doorway. Gregor held his lamp up to one of the nearby torches to ignite it, and Kodeph did likewise. Inside, they moved about the room, lighting more torches. -Only a few, though. They liked the soft darkness. Familiar, yet alien shapes grew form and color in the dim firelight, casting long, wavering shadows.

It was much bigger than the old museum, Kodeph had been told once. Everything in it was displayed neatly on shelves and tables, and most of the objects had plaques or tags attached. They said things like "Tap Shoes," "Gas Mask," "Sled," and "Umbrella." Most of the words meant nothing to him, but that was the fun of it all. They sat down on the stone bench in the middle of the room that was their usual place. Kodeph waited patiently as Gregor looked around with a weary expression. He always did. The boy didn't realize that while to him the artifacts were like windows to a new world, to the old man they were like hollow shells, lost puzzle pieces from a greater whole that had been torn apart forever. But, for the time being, Gregor would let himself pretend with his grandnephew that they were windows. This was a two-sided agreement, after all.

"So," Gregor almost whispered. "What'll it be tonight?"

Kodeph jumped at the opportunity to open his bag full of treasures. "Mom found me a book," he explained excitedly. He pulled out decrepit-looking volume and held it out to his uncle with pride. It was losing its binding terribly, and the title was made illegible from countless years of wear.

"You... want me to read it to you?" Gregor asked uncertainly.

"No, of course not." Kodeph looked offended. Didn't he know and anything about his nephew by now? "I've read the whole thing already!"

"Obviously. My mistake."

"Well, anyway, it's called A Christmas Carol. Have you heard of it?"

Gregor snorted. "Have I?" He took the book in his hands and flipped through a few of its pages carefully. "Of all the things..."

"Oh, good." Kodeph continued, "You know how Scrooge has to witness Christmases from his whole life in order to understand himself and be happy? See, it gave me an idea: I want to understand you better." He began waving his arms around the room. "You told me about telescopes and card games and phones and all sorts of other things. But I realized that I don't really know how you fit into all of that. Course, I don't expect you tell me how you're going to die or anything. Only Nerissa knows stuff like that."

Gregor was silent for some time, though this in itself was not a peculiar thing. He seemed to be gathering up his thoughts in a way, contrary to their old, worn out rhythm. His expression had turned wistful. After a while, he began in a melodramatic tone that was entirely for Kodeph's benefit, "I will tell you a Christmas story."

~

Gregor stood up. "It is in the nature of nearly every common soldier who ever lived to be haunted by what he or she has seen and done. I, of course, was no exception-"

"But you weren't just a 'common soldier,' Uncle," Kodeph reminded him, as if he needed to be reminded of such a thing.

"I was a soldier in the sense that I fought under Sandwich's authority and never had a choice in the matter. Now, please, no more interruptions." The boy sat back and closed his mouth, out of surprise more than anything. It was not his uncle's custom to forbid questions.

Gregor paused as if to reorder his thoughts, taking his time set the narration back on track. He sighed. "You can't even begin to imagine what it's like trying to live again after convincing yourself for weeks that you were going to die. Every day felt like a hazy dream, and every night a terror. Falling held a particularly cruel irony for me. I used to have nightmares about it when I was very young; they came to me after my father disappeared. There was so much to worry about, that sometimes it felt like everything would collapse. When I actually did fall, I thought I was imagining it." Gregor gazed up at the ceiling with a distant expression. "In a way, the result was the same.

Ares was my literal safety net. With him, I couldn't fall. Once he was gone... I lost my grip. Everything was fear and loneliness again. I told myself I had to let go, but to me, that phrase had a double meaning. I didn't understand what it meant to move on, not really. But one day, unexpectedly, it became clear..."

~

A bell clinked as Gregor and Rodney entered the small shop, accompanied by a greeting from a woman at the counter whom they had come to know by appearance, but not by name. "Welcome! Will you be needing any assistance finding what you need?" she asked. For some reason the older woman next to her looked slightly aghast at her words.

"No, thank you," Rodney replied. "We know where to look."

As they turned away, Gregor caught the older woman muttering to her coworker, "In your state..." She tutted softly. Curious, he kept an ear trained on their conversation as he went to get the pint of cream he was supposed to fetch.

The other woman responded tiredly, as if they'd had his particular argument a million times. "I'm fine now; you know that."

"I dare say you shouldn't be. It's been less than a week. For goodness sake, dear, people with think you're insensitive..." He lost their voices as he walked around another corner, having moved on to the next thing on their list.

There was also oatmeal, bread, and a jar of olives to be gotten while Rodney grabbed the produce. He retrieved the things easily, by that time knowing the layout of the store well. Minutes later, the two had gathered everything Jenny had asked them to get in a basket, and hauled it up to the counter. Again, there was a slight disturbance. The woman who was supposed to be unfit for work rushed to their assistance, punching away at the cash register with purpose. The other made a quiet sound of defeat, and addressed her customers. "The poor girl's in mourning. I ask you, what possesses someone to come back to work so soon?" She went on to explain that the woman's husband had just died in a freak bomb explosion overseas, and wasn't it just the worst thing a young person could have to deal with? Gregor looked over at the woman, who was now packing their groceries into paper bags. He felt a kind of empathy for her.

She looked embarrassed at being put on the spot, but remained solemn as she said, "What else have I got to do? At home it's just moping through the halls, staring out the window, and forgetting to eat." She heaved a sigh. "This is making me feel better. I've got to get up and keep moving at some point, anyway." She interjected with their total, and Rodney retrieved the amount from his wallet. The other woman just shook her head sadly and handed them their bags over the counter.

When she gave him back his change, Rodney said to the widow in a comforting tone, "I hope that you can still find it in yourself to have a merry Christmas this year. Take care."

"Take care," Gregor echoed. He looked her right in the eye and gave her a sincere smile. She smiled back and wished them both well.

~

"I spent much of the rest of that day pondering her words. She was moving on, letting go. Yet she wasn't forgetting about her husband. Quite the opposite, she spoke openly on the subject. I had to ask myself countless times: What was I doing? What was I doing with my life? Nothing. Nothing. Knowing the answer didn't make me feel any better.

I went to bed that night wracking my brain for what to do. And when I slept, the nightmares came again..."

~

The air felt heavy and hot. It was pressing hard, too hard; it made the very ground shake. Beneath Gregor's feet, it turned a scorching, hateful red. It cracked and glowed, like lava, but the burning liquid that spurted up smelled strongly of iron, and stained Gregor's clothes bright crimson. Soon the vile stuff was everywhere. It scalded his skin. The pain was overwhelming. He fell to his knees and screamed to the sky that it was too much, all too much.

~

As his uncle described the horrible dream, he became more animated then the young boy had ever seen him in his life. He looked upon him with wary eyes as the old man gesticulated violently at every word; his brow shined with sweat and his was voice loud with passion. If Kodeph had known the late rat, he would have said that in that moment he was the spitting image of Ripred.

~

In his agony, Gregor became suddenly aware that the sky was not the sky anymore, for it was under him. Sickeningly, gravity jerked into reverse and he was falling, falling, falling. Fear consumed him. He screamed some more, for what felt like ages, until he realized, finally, that there was to be no end to this fall.

After that he just felt alone, and abruptly, very cold. The stars were winking out, one by one. With each disappearance, he seemed to sink deeper and deeper into emptiness. Soon there was nothing at all, no pain, no thought, no light.

"I am here, Overlander," said a voice Gregor had never hoped to hear again. Slowly, as he looked around, he became aware that he was kneeling again, but there was only darkness all around him. "I am here," the voice repeated, and this time, he heard his bond. That is, he heard his face, in perfect detail, by sound waves bouncing off his form. He was smiling cheerfully, the way only a bat could.

"Ares," Gregor breathed, and again the bat's image came clear in his mind. He wanted to run into his wings and hug him and never let go, but he felt too weak to move. And there was something else holding him back. "I... You died, because of me."

"No," Ares dragged out the statement into a low whisper. "You gave me a life to be proud of." He extended his claw slowly. "Let me do the same for you."

Somehow Gregor found the strength to extend his own hand in turn, and took great comfort in feeling Ares’ claw solidly between his finders again. He realized what a wonderful juxtaposition it was to their bonding. Here he was, cowered on the ground, helpless, and Ares was the one picking him up. He pulled him close, and they shared a wordless embrace.

Gregor wanted to stay in that moment forever, but the dream was fading fast. All at once he was awake. It was still the middle of the night, past 1 AM by the clock on his nightstand. Gregor's eyes landed on the little bat figurine standing next to it. He sat up in bed, took the toy in one hand, his face in the other, and sobbed.

~

Gregor had sat back down again, and had had his eyes closed for a while now. He looked to Kodeph simultaneously mournful and content. "I stayed like that for I don't know how long, just crying. It was a good cry; I hadn't had one even remotely like it in many months. I felt sweet, blissful relief when I was finished. Eventually I got the urge to do what I normally did after a nightmare. I picked the habit up from my father. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I got out my saxophone and headed outside without bothering to put on a coat. I strolled through the rows of evergreen trees for a while with a reed between my lips, just enjoying the light snowfall, and the silence of it all. Once I was far enough out not to be heard, I began to play.

It's an interesting fact that music brings echolocation the most brilliant of sights. I continued on with my eyes closed, playing any and every Christmas song I'd ever learned and then some. I improvised; I danced the way people only do when they know no one is watching. That night I felt so free and full of hope; it wasn't until the light of dawn touched my eyelids that I finally decided to go back inside. That morning at breakfast, I told my parents I wanted to start school again next fall." He was quiet then.

Kodeph stared at his uncle dumbly, afraid to speak. Gregor spoke for him. "I told them so because I had come to conclusion that from that day forward, I would live for Ares. I kept him in my heart everywhere I went, and every good deed I did, every kind word I shared, was in his name. I could face things like school then, because his memory gave me resilience to carry on." He opened his eyes and looked at his grandnephew meaningfully. "I still live by that. Do you see? You know something very important about me now." 

Kodeph grew suddenly very solemn. “Yes,”

Gregor lost his dramatic edge then and became as normally was. “Good,” he said lightly. “You can hear another one like it tomorrow.”

\----

12/18/2062  
My name is Kodeph. I am 10 years old, and my grand uncle tells amazing stories. I'm writing because I know stories are the most important thing we have, and they can't be lost. I will fill this book with as may stories as I can. Know that as the reader, you hold history in your hands...

\----


End file.
